


Squirby ( Squip-Furby )

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: 12 years post canon, Canon Compliant, Crack Treated Seriously, Jeremy and Michael are married, M/M, Probably A One-Shot, and torture, depending on how you feel about the Squip, morally grey Michael?, this is not interconnected with my other fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 01:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18681241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Jeremy gets the Squip surgically removed, and Michael implants its hardware inside the body of a Furby.





	Squirby ( Squip-Furby )

There comes a day when Jeremy goes to the hospital with the headache to end all headaches, and it cumulates in an MRI, in which the doctors find the tiny speck of metal still implanted in his brain. It's been twelve years since the Incident, and Squips aren't as unknown as they used to be. For one thing, they've already taken over the entire country of Laos, especially the government. The doctors recognize the Squip for what it is, and offer to remove it. It’ll be a major surgery. Invasive. Possibly damaging. Hopefully not deadly. Jeremy jumps at the chance. 

Michael gets it. Jeremy is his husband and he supports him, even if neither of them can sleep at night, imagining the worst possible outcome. Michael has only one request. He wants whatever pieces of Squip they take out. 

“Why?” Jeremy asks. They’re laying in bed together the night before the surgery. Michael is running his hand through Jeremy’s hair. The doctors will have to shave it before the operation. 

“Y’know… reasons…” Michael mumbles. 

“Michael, seriously. Don't be weird about this.” 

“I'm not,” Michael promises. “It's just I've been keeping track of these things since high school. Maybe I wanna look the enemy in the face for once, instead of having to see it reflected in yours.” 

The surgery is a success. Jeremy’s fine after, in a recovering from brain surgery kind of way. He's tired and needs help with some things, but he's alive, and no permanent damage is done. The first thing he does, upon becoming coherent enough to carry out a conversation with Michael, is give him the Squip, which he'd been keeping in a little plastic chest next to his bed, reminiscent of the ones little kids were given to hold their baby teeth until the “tooth fairy” could retrieve them. Michael kisses Jeremy on the forehead, and pockets their mutual nemesis. This’ll be interesting. 

Michael is good with technology, especially old stuff. Obsession breeds talent. He refurbished his first VCR freshman year of college. He's fixed up at least half a dozen computers and video game consoles from the 80’s and 90’s. He's got four hacked furbies — one that says curse words, one that is hooked up to the internet and can give weather reports, one that's basically a glorified calculator, and one that sings the Macarena. He's about to make his fifth, and most ambitious. It's just waiting in the closet for the time to be right. 

Over the coming days, Michael is in and out of the hospital, looking after Jeremy. His project will have to wait until Jeremy recovers. A week later, Jeremy comes home. A month after that, he's able to go back to work. He's doing well! 

Michael gets to work too. 

He opens up the furby on a stormy afternoon. It's a black and purple one from 1999. After the necessary tinkering with the system, Michael takes the Squip out of the box where he's been keeping it, and painstakingly installs it. He adds two double A batteries, and flips the ‘on’ switch. The furby opens its purple eyes, and watches Michael, its gaze plastic and expressionless. 

“ ‘Sup?” Michael asks, leaning back in his chair, to survey his work. It might all be for nothing. The connections might be wrong. 

“Everything about you sucks,” says the Furby. 

Michael snorts out a laugh. “Says the shitty Siri knock off that just got implanted into a thirty-two year old children’s toy.” 

“If you listen to me, I can help you be more chill.” 

“Actually, that's something I've been thinking about a lot. You kinda get off on people listening to you, right? You get cranky when you’re ignored.” 

“My only purpose is to improve your life.”

“Wrong,” Michael says. “Your only purpose is to suffer.” 

He picks up the Squip-Furby, and puts it in a shoebox. He duct tapes the shoebox shut, and shoves it in the back of the closet. 

“Have fun being ignored,” Michael tells the Squip. “I'll open you up to change your batteries in a few weeks. That'll give you some time to think about what you’ve done.” 

With that, Michael closes the door.


End file.
